


make you sorry

by WildlyJourneyed



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Choking, Forced Feminization, M/M, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildlyJourneyed/pseuds/WildlyJourneyed
Summary: “You’ll want to take off your pants and underwear.”  Asphodel stares at the security guard, wondering if he should try to punch him again.“Excuse me?”  He asks instead.  Security stares back impassionately while lifting up the chain in his hand.“Rowan’s pissed.  He’s probably not letting you off this anytime soon.”
Relationships: Rowan/Asphodel
Kudos: 27





	make you sorry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeviousMachinations](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousMachinations/gifts).



“You’ll want to take off your pants and underwear.” Asphodel stares at the security guard, wondering if he should try to punch him again.

“Excuse me?” He asks instead. Security stares back dispassionately while lifting up the chain in his hand.

“Rowan’s pissed. He’s probably not letting you off this anytime soon.” The chain is thin, not like those big linked ones Asp’s seen in medieval films. In the security guard’s hand is a padded cuff with a fucking lock on it. His stomach turns as he weighs out his options. Getting caught trying to leave was sure to piss Rowan off, but Asphodel had—well, he hadn’t thought about what would happen if he _did_ get caught. He blanches under the guard’s blank stare, and finally moves to take off his pants.

They’re Rowan’s, along with the over-sized dress shirt that’s now barely keeping his modesty. Asphodel hesitates before finally pulling off the underwear too. Lacy boy shorts hit the floor, and he kicks both those and the pants away with a trembling sneer. The security guard steps forward and goes to kneel.

“If you kick me again, I have permission to rough you up a little.” There’s no inflection to this man’s voice but Asphodel shudders and stays still while the cuff is locked around his left ankle. It’s not tight, it’s hardly uncomfortable, but the emotional weight of it roots him to the spot. The guard stands up and looks to the door.

“Is he…?” There’s no need to play at the tremble in his voice. Asphodel’s fear is real and he can feel his knees buckle slightly when the guard turns back to him.

“The boss will be back at his usual time. You have a few hours.” _To think about what you’ve done._ That’s the implication left hanging as the guard finally turns to leave. There’s a note of finality as the door clicks and locks from the outside, leaving Asp completely confined to the empty penthouse.

Hours. He has hours to kill, waiting in terror in nothing but a dress shirt and an ankle cuff. Asphodel stands in the living room, unsure of what to do. His chest won’t stop aching and his thoughts are sluggish, numbed, maybe because all the blood left his head to fuel his rabbit heart. Hours to think of a way to avoid punishment, whatever that may be.

When his feet can finally lift from the carpet, Asp checks the range of the chain he’s on. His room is off the living room and it’s easy to reach that along with his attached bathroom, and he has full motion of the living room. The kitchen is a little harder, he can only reach the fridge and pantry. He takes a granola bar with him as he goes to see about Rowan’s rooms.

The chain stops short of the bedroom, which means Asp can’t reach the study either. He’s stuck in the main half of the penthouse, then. Something tells him there’s probably a hidden cuff and chain in Rowan’s room, just waiting for later. He takes a vicious bite of the granola bar and chokes on it.

The hours tick by slowly. The TV is on but Asp has the volume low, so low that when the front door handle clicks he’s able to hear it and immediately turn the tv off. He stays rooted to his spot on the couch, curled up and shaking as Rowan finally enters the apartment.

His face is quietly furious, still mostly stoic except that Asp can tell his jaw is completely locked and tense. The jacket comes off first, then the gun holster with the accompanying gun, and those go into the self locking closet by the door. Rowan shuts it and finally makes eye contact. He doesn’t say anything. Asp watches him walk forward, his hands unbuckling and sliding off the belt at his hips. The apology Asp prepared dies on his lips as he unfolds his legs from under himself in a desperate, pointless attempt to flee that anger.

Rowan’s hand curls into his hair and _yanks_ , making Asphodel howl as he’s thrown to the floor. His right cheek clips the corner of the coffee table and pain blooms there, only to be joined by the ache of his full body hitting the ground. Asp can feel Rowan kneel next to him and then there’s the belt, looping over his neck and tightening.

“Keep your head down.” Rowan grounds out, pressing his knee to Asp’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare pick your face up off that carpet.”

Asp can only gasp in response, his hands clawing at the floor by his head. Rowan stands but he keeps hold of the belt, tugging the end so that it tightens around Asphodel’s neck. The blunt heel of a shoe digs into his back, hard enough to bruise later. He can only continue to choke into the carpet, unable to suck in breath through his panic. The belt loosens just a little as Rowan settles over him.

“Arch your back if you want to apologize.” Rowan says from behind, and Asp struggles to get his knees under himself to comply. He brushes against Rowan’s thighs as he does it and can’t help but shudder, completely out of his depth. It takes a moment but Asp manages not to lift his head, manages to get his hips into the air to arch his back like a cat in heat. The belt tightens as he moves, a constant threat.

“Are you sorry?” Rowan asks, and Asp nods his head against the carpet. It hurts against his bruised cheek. “No, you’re not. I’m going to _make_ you sorry.”

A hand comes down on his ass so hard that Asp rocks forward, gasping and getting a mouthful of carpet. It happens again and again until he’s in tears, lightheaded between crying out and the tightening of the belt. When it stops he can barely tell, the raw skin of his ass stinging so hard it feels like the hits are still coming. Rowan’s messing with something on the coffee table and then Asp feels sticky cold lube being poured onto him. It’s his only warning before two fingers shove into him, a rough stretch that Asp immediately figures out will be his only preparation. He chokes out the harsh consonants of a swear and lifts his head, trying to loosen the pull of the belt.

“ _Asphodel_.” Rowan hisses, and he leans over to shove Asp’s face back into the carpet hard enough that his nose starts to bleed. The movement of stretching over Asp’s back has Rowan’s hips pressing into his ass and he shouldn’t be surprised that the man is so fucking hard from this, knows that Rowan likes this shit. He’s shocked anyway, because he can still feel how _angry_ Rowan is from the tension in his body. It doesn’t take much for Rowan to unbutton his pants and line the head of his cock up, taking advantage of the desperate arch of Asp’s body to thrust shallowly in.

Rowan rocks forward a few times, the only gentleness Asp gets before that cock is buried into him, just barely eased by the lube and the fact they’d fucked that morning before Rowan had left and Asp had tried to escape. There’s a pause as Rowan shifts his position behind Asphodel, and then Rowan is fucking into him hard with the belt as leverage. Each thrust has Asp’s face rubbing against the carpet and he can see red smearing onto it, the blood from his nose coating his cheek and upper lip. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, just scrambles to use them to keep from being shoved too far forward.

He almost passes out somewhere in the middle of it, the belt too tight and the angle of Rowan’s cock punching what little breath he has out of him. He only just registers when it’s over. Rowan grunts as he cums, his thrusts growing slower and deeper as he fucks it into Asphodel’s body. He keeps thrusting until he’s nearly soft, and when he pulls out he finally lets go of the belt. Asp draws in a sobbing breath when he does, but he keeps his head down and his back arched. An apology as best as he can give it, right now.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, ass in the air and shuddering through the aftershocks. Rowan says something and though he can’t figure out what it is exactly, he knows it’s permission to stop. His body collapses to the floor and Asphodel stays there a bit longer, still shaking. He can see the smear of his blood on the carpet now, starting to dry. Somehow that’s what gets him onto his knees, and he crawls over to where Rowan is smoking on the couch.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, his throat too sore from choking. “I won’t leave again. I’ll never try it again.”

Rowan looks impassively down at him, taking another drag off his cigarette. Asphodel tries to imagine what he looks like, wearing Rowan’s now crumpled dress shirt with bruises and blood painted across his face. He wonders how long Rowan was watching him, ass in the air and cum on his thighs. Rowan works at his cigarette and spreads his legs.

“Good girl.” He says, and Asphodel knows this isn’t over yet.


End file.
